


you may sanctuary find

by AmbientMagic



Category: The Posterchildren - Kitty Burroughs
Genre: A Tragic Flock of Underwoods, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Matt Underwood Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbientMagic/pseuds/AmbientMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was gonna be fluff, but then the Underwoods happened.</p><p>Mal has some questions about what happened at fancy posterprom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you may sanctuary find

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bonus fic for tedkordisanasshole for the prompt “Vee/Cat/Marshal shenanigans. Marshall is too much of a nerd to hang out with these nerds. Joking, they're all nerds. Okay but seriously, those three chilling out somewhere, cuddling like pros, watching a movie”
> 
> Your Secret Santa is taking a little longer than expected to finish up your present, so here’s something to tide you over in the meantime! (And then I took forever too, oh dear.)
> 
> This was just gonna be fluff. Oops. I upset myself a lot while writing this.

“No chance in hell.”

“But it’s a  _ classic!” _

“First of all, you’re wrong, and second of all, I am  _ not  _ watching  _ Die Hard _ on  _ Christmas.  _ We’re gonna watch  _ Elf  _ like normal posthumans. _ ” _

Marshall grinned as his girls bickered in the living room.  Most of his girls, anyway.  Ellie had to work until nine (on Christmas Eve, no less!), but Vee and Cat were here, popcorn was popping, and all was right with the world.  

Wait a second.  Marshal took a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

Strike that, this was gonna get violent.

Underneath the popcorn was copper and cotton and familiar sweat, getting stronger as his brother approached.  Ellie wasn’t with him, but someone was.  He sniffed again.  Several someones.  Wool and flour, electricity and spandex, leather and nail polish, smoke and hair gel and oranges.  His brother had brought along a whole posse.

They’d be knocking on the door soon.  Marshal walked into the living room and glared at his friends.  Cat was cross-legged against the arm, Vee stretched out across the rest with her feet in Cat’s lap.  “Which one of you told him where I lived?” he demanded.  “Or was it Ellie?”

Vee blinked at him sleepily.  Cat dropped her phone and looked at him innocently.  “Told who what?”

“Told my  _ darling half-brother _ where I lived!”

Cat crossed her arms, tattoos rippling, and glared at him.  “When my  _ fifteen year old student  _ shows up to a training session  _ missing teeth _ , and I find out it’s because one of my best friends beat him within an inch of his life, I think I have that right.  And if he’s here to punch you back, I’ll hold you down myself.  He’s a  _ kid,  _ Marshal.  What did he do to deserve that?”

Marshal sat down on the couch between Cat and Vee, breathing hard and fighting down the adrenaline--panic?--rising within him.  “I… I fucked up, okay?  I know I did, I know, I… I wanted to ask about Corbin.  Dad.  How come  _ he _ was there and I didn’t get to-- And then he wouldn’t tell me, and he just.  God.  Matt would have entered his capstone this year, you know.  He looks just like him, and I… I just lost it.  I fucked up bad.”  Marshal took a deep breath, then looked at Cat.  “If he wants to punch me, you don’t have to hold me down.  I’ll let him.”  Cat stared him down, then nodded slowly.  

He turned to Vee, who was giving him a deeply unimpressed look.  “Ellie told me about it,” she said.  “She found Mal bleeding, saw you leaving, and put two and two together.  She said he was fine, so I didn’t press.  And yes, you did fuck up.”

“Shouldn’t someone be on my side?” Marshal wondered as the doorbell rang.

“No,” his traitor friends chorused as he got up again to open the door.  

He was greeted by a veritable rainbow of teenage posters.  Mal was front and center of course, and his fast little partner was next to him, looking fierce and so much like Ellie he almost cracked a smile.  Ernest stood in the back, glaring and looking rather a lot like he wanted to punch Marshal.  Seemed to be a lot of that going around.  Roz was there, too, of course, and three kids he didn’t recognize: a slim boy on one side of Ernest that was literally crackling with electricity, a curvy girl to his other side whose glare could give Vee a run for her money, and a tall, lanky boy next to Roz.  Something about him warned Marshal he wasn’t as wimpy as he looked.

“Well hi there,” Marshal said.  “What brings the entirety of Maillardet’s to my door?”

Mal crossed his arms and glared.  “It’s Christmas, is it not?  It is traditional to spend time with one’s family.  Ellie said I should come and bring my friends.”

_ Traitor. _

Marshal grinned and opened the door wide.  “Then by all means, come in.”

Slowly, the teens filed past him.  The glittery one yelled,  “Hey Teach!  Merry Christmas!”

Ernest came in last, and looked Marshal in the eye as he closed the door.  “I don’t know what your problem is with Mal,” he said quietly.  “But if you ever hurt him again, you won’t just have to deal with me.  It’ll be all of us.”  With that, he turned and walked the rest of the way into Marshal’s apartment.

Marshal shot off a quick text to his sister:  _ what the hell did you do _

She texted back instantly:  **Merry Christmas Marshal!  This is your present to me.  Get along and I’ll be there soon.**

When Marshal walked back into the living room, he could feel the tension ratchet up--actually, he could smell it.  Fear immediately spiked off of several of the kids--the glittery one, the ginger, and, oddly enough, Ernest.  Anger from Mal and Rosario and the red band.  Nothing at all from the kid in suspenders.  Weird.  

“So, Teach!  Mind introducing all of us?” the sparkly kid asked, hopping onto the back of the couch and perching there.  “I know you, of course, and I know that the big guy is Mal’s brother, but who is this lovely lady?”

“I’m Vee,” she said shortly, crossing her arms.  She did  _ not  _ sign up for a passel of kids invading her Christmas Eve, thanks.

“Nice to meet you Vee,” the kid chirped, somehow sparkling even brighter than before.  “My name is Maks!  Teach and I do silks together most mornings…”  He kept up a good show, but the kid--Maks--stank of anxiety and fear.  It might have fooled anyone without Marshal’s nose.  “Oh! I almost forgot!  Ernest made cookies to share with you guys!  Can’t show up without a present for the host, right?  There’s gingerbread and sugar cookies, I think.  Mal, wanna help put them away in the kitchen?”  The shaggy-haired kid beamed at Mal, who nodded curtly and took a cookie tin from his partner.  

Maks continued introductions and smalltalk chatter as Mal paced silently into the kitchen.  Stomach sinking, Marshal followed.  

As the kitchen door swung closed, Mal pivoted to face his brother.  “I spoke with Mother at length about both why you would choose to hurt me and why, when you saw that I could heal, you would stop.  She had some ideas about the first, but said that I would need to ask you about the second personally.  Elouise suggested I join you both here tonight if I wanted to ask you in person.  Would you like a cookie?”

Marshal blinked.  “What?” 

“A cookie.  Ernest made them.  According to his father, you love gingerbread.”  Mal offered him the tin.  Bemused, Marshal took it and examined the contents.  The gingerbread men were decorated to look like each of them, by god.  Just to be contrary, he picked up the one that looked like Mal and started eating.  Damn, these were good.

“Damn, these are good,” said Marshal.  He didn’t say anything more, choosing instead to let Mal take the lead.  He wasn’t gonna give the little turd  _ anything.   _

Mal set the cookies aside and took a deep breath.  “Why did you hit me at the Pre-Holiday Posthuman Bash?”

Damn.  The kid didn’t want to hit him.  He wanted to  _ talk.   _ Marshal would have preferred the asskicking.  Still.  He owed the kid answers, probably.  

“Because you pissed me off,” Marshal answered through cookie crumbs.  Maybe not immediately, though.

Mal raised an eyebrow.  “The majority of people I interact with daily piss me off, and yet I manage to avoid fisticuffs.  Elaborate.”

Marshal clenched his fists, cookie gone, trying to stay calm.  Cat and Vee would kick his ass if he hit the kid again.  “I didn’t know you existed until two years ago.  I found out you’d taken on the Little Bird mantle at the same time.  Do you know how I lost the cape?”  He stared at Mal.   _ If I don’t know anything about him, how much does he know about me? _

“Little Bird fell when he killed a vigilante who had murdered a civilian.  By committing murder himself and then running away, he became a vigilante.  _ You  _ became a vigilante,” Mal recited.  God, he sounded like a press release.  He really didn’t know?  Amira hadn’t  _ told  _ him?

“Tygr didn’t murder a  _ civilian _ ,” Marshal forced through gritted teeth.  “He massacred Matt.”  Saying his brother’s name after so long  _ hurt,  _ in a way that punches (and stabbings, and gunshots) didn’t.  What Mal said next was worse.

“Who’s Matt?”

Marshal just gaped, trying to process  _ that.   _ “Who’s--”

“Was he a friend of yours, or--”

“Matt was  _ our brother.” _

“Our--”  Mal’s eyes grew wide.  “Mother never said his name.  It was Matt?”

“Matin.  Matt for short.  Dad--the Rook was out, and I was home with Matt and Ellie.  Tygr…”  _ took him and tortured him and murdered him with a knife made from his own blood.   _ “Tygr took him on my watch, so I went looking.”  He stared Mal in the eye.  “I found him.”

“I see…” Mal murmured.  

“Anyway.  That was the last time I saw Dad, or Mira, in person for years.  And then, I heard about  _ you,  _ they’d gone and replaced me with some random-ass kid Mira kept secret, and when I met you…” Marshal shook his head.  “God, you look just like him.”

Mal nodded, eyes narrowed.  “So it was a combination of your anger at my taking the Little Bird name, and your confusion when I looked like--Matt--that caused you to use me as a punching bag.  You didn’t know I could heal?” he confirmed.

“I’m a fuckstick, I know, it’s been made very clear to me by every woman in my life,” Marshal grumbled.   _ Get me out of here.  I’d rather he just punched me.   _ “I didn’t know.  I barely even knew your name, your file is sealed tighter than anyone’s I’ve ever seen.  And the friend who helps me out with stuff like that wouldn’t hack it for me.”

“Leaving aside your cybercrimes, why did my healing make you stop, rather than escalate?”

Instead of answering, Marshal took a deep breath.  Under the copper and cotton, there was a scent that tugged at him.  Not enough to sense, not really, but it had gotten stronger when Mal was healing.  A scent he associated with baby powder and wooden blocks and-- _ blood, so much blood, there was blood everywhere, how could it have all come out of such a small child?  He was covered in cuts; some of them looked weeks old somehow _ \--

Marshal jerked away.  “Nope. I’ve given you enough answers.  We’re done.”  He moved to the microwave, taking out the long-forgotten popcorn, shaking it into a bowl, and fleeing to the living room.  “There’s plates in the cabinet, bring out the cookies,” he called over his shoulder.

When Marshal arrived in the living room, somehow all the kids had managed to find a place on the couch.  How, he wasn’t sure--it barely fit the three of them, but hey, maybe one of the kids was a reality bender.  Maks was perched on the back of the couch, as was Cat and Mal’s partner.  Ernest was sitting awkwardly on the cushion nearest the armrest, the red band next to him, with Vee on the third cushion.  Roz and the skinny kid were each perched on an armrest.  

“I brought popcorn,” Marshal called, and Ernest plopped onto the floor, the redband shifted, and he settled in next to Vee on the couch.  Cat hopped off the back and started the movie, and Mal came out of the kitchen, cookies in hand, and settled between Marshal and June.  He looked uncomfortable, but hey.  Kid’s last on the couch, he gets the last spot, right?

When Ellie arrived an hour and a half later, the movie was nearly over and everyone except Jack was asleep, curled into one another.  June was snoring lightly, and Maks’ glow brightened and dimmed in time with his breath.  

The green band’s arrival caused Marshal and Mal both to stir.  When both Underwoods became aware of their position (Mal snuggled into Marshal’s chest, Marshal’s arm slung around him protectively) they recoiled so violently that the couch flipped over, sending everyone else sprawling to the floor.  

Vee tried to scatter, but Roz’s power cancelled her out and she landed in a heap on the floor, glaring at Marshal.  Cat, who like Maks had somehow managed to land on her feet, started laughing hysterically.  

Ellie looked around the room, smiling brightly.  “So what did I miss?”

**Author's Note:**

> This might have a cute ending, but Corbin is still dead and his kids don’t get along. Merry Christmas!
> 
> title from Robert Service’s “Little Brother”


End file.
